


Four Hours

by EllenOfOz



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sam Winchester Needs Brain Bleach, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:01:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz
Summary: Castiel is cursed, after Rowena turned him into an attack dog and set him on her own son. Dean and Sam find him later in the bunker, but Dean notices something new that the curse has brought out in the angel— an irresistible amplification of his scent.It seems Castiel is now definitely an alpha, and being around Dean is dangerous.For Destiel Smut Bingo, prompt: “It’s been almost four hours and it won’t go down”





	Four Hours

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to dedicate this story to all the people who have supported and encouraged me in writing this year: 
> 
> Firstly and always, my bffs CBFirestarter, WaywardAF67, WaywardJenn and TrenchcoatBaby <3 They’ve all got me on the A/B/O bandwagon, so I figured I’d better give it a try...
> 
> Thanks and hugs to all the wonderful creators of Discord, especially MalMuses, son_of_a_bitch_supernatural and jscribbles, and also to the supportive members of Palominopup's facebook group.
> 
> And finally, the amazing Anyrei, who agreed to create the artwork for this story. Thank you! You can find more of [her beautiful art here](https://www.deviantart.com/anyrei), or read her stories [here on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyrei).
> 
> What better way to celebrate than with some unashamed smut? Happy holidays!

“Help me,” is all Castiel says when he sees Dean and Sam. 

Dean’s heart cracks as he takes in his red eyes and his bloodied clothes. They’ve only just got back after losing track of baby Amara and Crowley, and who knows how long Cas has been lying here, in pain. He and Sam hoist Cas to his feet and plant him on a chair in the library, and Dean fetches a blanket to wrap around Cas’ shoulders. They only shackle him once Cas tells them about Rowena’s attack dog spell, and the effect it’s having on him. Cas insists, in fact. Dean and Sam reluctantly agree.

Dean is just glad to see Cas back in one piece, but there is certainly something different about him, apart from the physical trauma. When he places the blanket around Cas’ shoulders, he realises what it is.

Cas has always smelled pretty nice—like an ocean breeze—but angels generally don't have a full scent like humans do. Dean has always self-consciously covered up his omega pheromones when Cas is around, especially when he’s close to heat. He doesn't even know if Cas can smell that on him, but he's always guessed it was polite to cover up with blockers anyway.

But whatever the attack dog spell has done to Cas, it’s amplified whatever secondary biology he might have had lurking, and he’s now certainly an alpha. To Dean, he now smells like crashing waves, and like the clear air after a thunderstorm. It’s electrifying, and after Cas falls to the floor in convulsions and Dean picks him up again, he has to physically drag himself away from Cas and hide behind the table, because that scent is doing things to him that he’s not ready to broach with his best friend. 

Cas looks up at him pathetically from under his blanket, watching him as he sits back behind his laptop. Dean carefully avoids looking at him. What he really wants to do was jump up and get a good lungful of this new scent, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t go down too well.

Sam taps at his keyboard a few times, then glances up at Dean. “Listen to this. May be something here.” He looks back down to read from his screen. “Uh, in Denver, three women were at this Café Elta, when their waiter, for no apparent reason, stabbed and killed one. One survived and the third vanished after furniture seemed to slide around by itself. What do you think?”

The kid has a knack for finding Rowena, that’s for sure. Dean picks up his phone, then looks back over at Sam. “You got a number there for the Denver PD?”

Sam types for a moment then rattles off a string of numbers.

A man answers the phone, “Denver Police Department.”

“Hi, who's your lead on the Café Elta investigation?”

***

Dean meets Sam in the hall outside their rooms a few minutes later. 

“Where’s your stuff?” Sam asks, eyeing Dean’s jeans and jacket.

Dean glances back through the library door at Cas, still sitting hunched under the blanket, handcuffed and miserable. “You kidding? We can’t just leave him here when he’s like this. What if he chokes on his tongue or something?”

Sam follows his gaze. “Crap, you’re right. Guess I’ll just try to bag Rowena on my own.”

Dean snorts. “You’re a big boy. I’m sure you can handle her.”

Sam levels a bitchface at him, then heads for the stairs to the garage. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Sure.” Dean leans in the library door for a moment. “Cas? I’m just going in the kitchen to grab something to eat. You want anything?”

Cas eyes him, pain etched into the lines of his face. “I still don’t need to eat, Dean.”

“Right, sorry.” He ducks into the kitchen and grabs the leftover box of Chinese out of the fridge. 

Leaning against the kitchen counter, he shovels a few cold forkfuls of noodles into his mouth. It really is one crisis into another around here, isn’t it? He’s only just got rid of the Mark of Cain, only to have the Darkness reborn as a baby who apparently now has a taste for souls. He shakes his head. It sounds like some shitty B grade movie plot, but sadly, that’s their lives now. 

At least Cas managed to make it back here, although God knows how he managed to drive in the state he’s in. From the little he’d been able to tell them, some angels had caught up with him and roughed him up. That’s all he’s been willing to share, but Dean sees the anguish in his eyes. 

A noise from the library makes him look up from his noodles. It sounded like… laughter? A woman, even. He takes his dinner with him into the library, to be met with the sight of Cas sitting at the desk, snapping Dean’s laptop shut with a baffled look on his face. 

“What could ‘Fortune Nookie’ be?” the angel mutters. 

Dean freezes on the library steps. He chuckles nervously before moving forward again. “How’d you managed to open that?” 

Castiel looks up and watches him approach the table. Dean’s pretty sure that Cas’ eyes are looking more red than they were earlier. And his staring is really starting to get unnerving—more than it usually is, anyway. 

Cas abruptly throws his head up, taking a deep sniff of the air. 

Dean blinks, trying to scent the air surreptitiously himself. Maybe Cas is hungry after all? Then it hits him. There’s no mistaking that musky scent, laced with arousal. 

An alpha, going into rut. It’s Castiel. 

Cas screws up his face in pain and starts to convulse again, sliding off the chair onto the floor. Dean is torn between rushing over to help him, and keeping his distance. He desperately tries to ignore the fact that the scent of Cas’ arousal is sending pooling heat to his own crotch. Cas is under a spell—he isn’t in control right now, and whatever the spell is doing to his sexual chemistry is _entirely unfair_ because it’s _intoxicating_.

Dean tries to peer over the edge of the desk without moving from his spot on the other side of it. “Cas?” he asks, trying to keep calm over his racing heartbeat.

Castiel gets to his feet slowly, his hands spread wide. The handcuffs are nowhere to be seen. Cas looks up at Dean, his face a mask of pain, his eyes wide and bloodshot. “Dean… run.” 

Dean stands frozen for a few moments, staring at him. Then Cas lurches a step to the side, heading around the table, and Dean turns and bolts from the library. 

His mind whirls. Cas is chasing him. Castiel, angel of the Lord, is horny and hulking out. He huffs out a small laugh as he runs. He'd be completely beside himself with the horror of it, if it wasn't all kinds of hot. Has Cas always been an alpha, and Dean just never noticed? Just what the hell is this magic that Rowena pumped him full of? He’d already tried to kill Crowley, he’d told them that much.

He ducks around the corner at the end of the hall and peers around. Cas clears the corner from the library and is stalking after him with his weird shuffling gait. He’s trying to hold back—Dean can see it in his tortured face, but he turns and runs anyway, his footsteps loud.

He takes a moment near the garage door and fumbles to unlace his boots, throwing them into the garage and taking off up towards the bedrooms on socked feet. As he runs he curses under his breath. He can’t hear Cas’ breathing anymore—perhaps he’s fallen behind enough that he can get up the stairs and out of the bunker? But he really can’t let Cas loose on the world like this. He needs to try to contain him somehow. He wonders at the silence in the bunker—he knows Cas can be a sneaky fucker when he’s at full strength, and he really hopes the curse hasn’t taken over that much.

Dean loops back around past the bedrooms to the corridor leading back to the war room. He peeks around the doorframe, checking for any movement in the war room or library, but it’s all clear. He turns back to the corridor and is met face to face with a snarling Cas.

Cas pins him against the wall face first, leaning with one arm across his back, growling. Dean’s heart is in his throat and he tenses, ready for whatever punishment Cas is about to deal him. Perhaps he can duck and spin, and escape long enough to get back to the garage.

Cas leans in close to Dean’s neck, just below his ear, and inhales deeply. He growls low in his throat, then grumbles out, “‘m..s-sorry, Dean. Just... just a taste. Just let me…”

Dean’s eyes are wide. He has no idea what Cas is about to do. Is he going to bite? His breath is quick and shallow, every instinct telling him to turn and fight. All except that pesky omega inside of him who is loving every moment of this. He can feel how turned on he is—his boxers are damp against his skin and he feels feverish. Every place where Cas is touching him is on fire.

Cas leans forward and sniffs at Dean’s neck again, then licks a long stripe from his collar up behind his ear. Dean inhales sharply at the sensation, a shiver racing down his spine. He knows how wrong this is when Cas is not himself, but damn him back to Hell, _he wants this_.

The pressure of Cas’ arm stays constant against his shoulder blades so that he can’t quite turn around, but Dean can hear the rustle of fabric, the click of Cas’ belt buckle. 

“Uh, Cas? You okay there, buddy?” Dean asks, tensing up and getting ready to break free. If Cas is gonna get himself off right now, then Dean’s own dick wants to be involved.

Cas breathes in shallow gasps, and he manages to grunt out, “Just need...to...sorry…so sorry…”

He can do this, right? Can help his friend through a rut? People do that for each other all the time when they’re unmated, don’t they? Of course, it doesn’t help that Dean has been burying his feelings for Cas for years now, and his new stormy alpha scent is sending all those repressed feelings straight to his cock.

“Cas, it’s okay. It’s fine. Let me help you.” He unbuttons his own jeans and starts to slide the zipper down, but freezes when the pressure on his back abruptly disappears. Cas lets out an animalistic growl and grabs Dean’s jeans at the hips, yanking them down over his ass. When Dean tries to spin around, Cas grabs him again and turns him back to face the wall, and Dean has an image seared into his retinas of Cas on his knees behind him, his eyes wild and red.

Cas pushes Dean against the wall again, then drags Dean’s damp boxers down with one hand. Dean stumbles at the awkward position with his pants around his knees, but Cas grabs him around the hips again to hold him steady. He inhales again, and Dean shudders at the possessive nature of the action. Then Cas buries his face in Dean’s ass, his tongue licking up the slick between his cheeks. 

Dean knows on some level he should find this gross, but he’s too busy gasping at the sensation of Cas’ tongue licking his sensitive skin. He can’t bend over properly in this position—they’re still in the fucking hallway. He flinches as Cas’ tongue makes contact with the edge of his hole—just how long is his freaking tongue, anyway?

He tries to pull away from Cas, but the angel is holding Dean’s hips so firmly, Dean’s sure there will be bruises later. “Hey, Cas, hold up.” Cas doesn’t stop, just keeps licking. “Let’s get out of this hallway. Cas, there’s a table just over there.” 

Cas glances up, his eyes still bloodshot and filled with pain, but he grumbles and lets go of Dean long enough for him to shed his pants and haul Cas up. As Cas gets his feet under him, Dean breathes a lungful of his scent, and fuck, does it make his heart race and his blood boil. Somewhere in the lust-filled haze he draws the line at kissing Cas while he’s firstly under a spell, and secondly, after he’s just had his tongue on his ass, but he closes the distance anyway and nuzzles into the rough skin just under Cas’ jaw. Cas bucks forward into him and Dean sees sparks as Cas’ hip comes into contact with his achingly hard cock.

Cas growls again and tries to pull away. “Dean, I can’t… can’t stop it.”

Dean murmurs, “It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ve got you,” as they shuffle into the war room, Cas taking gasping breaths of Dean’s scent as he holds their bodies crushed together. Dean guides them over towards the table and as soon as the back of his legs bump against it, Cas spares it a brief glance before he spins Dean around and pushes him down face first. Still breathing heavily, Cas’ fingers spread Dean apart and without any warning, he plunges a long finger into Dean’s slick hole, pushing it in and out a few times then drawing it out.

Dean lets out his held breath, but barely has time to reflect that this was not how he expected today to go, when Cas leans down and spears him with his tongue, licking in and out. The moan he lets out is low and gravelly. He shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is… Cas isn’t in his right mind, after all, but he hopes Cas is actually enjoying this as well. He doesn’t know if he could stop even if he wanted to, and if he moves Cas could well snap him in half with his freakish angel strength. There’s something intoxicating about releasing control, even if he knows he shouldn’t let his guard down and be ready to fight if things start getting dicey. But oh… the stretch and burn as Cas slides two fingers in alongside his tongue is filling him up with white heat, and he can’t get enough.

He gasps Cas’ name, and the angel pulls back abruptly, like he’s been startled. When Dean glances back, panting heavily, Cas lets out another growl and springs to his feet, fumbling with his own trousers. Dean tries to turn around again but Cas grabs his arm below the elbow and twists it behind Dean’s back, shoving him down onto the table with one hand, lining up his cock against Dean’s entrance with the other.

Cas is gonna fuck him, and he’s still basically fully dressed, including his trench coat. Dean’s aware that this is all kinds of messed up, but seriously… it’s fucking hot. Dean is about to come all over the map table just from the thought alone, since he can’t actually see what the angel looks like back there. Then Cas pushes in, and slides home with a forceful thrust, and Dean is lost. The rhythm is punishing, but Dean grips the opposite edge of the table with his free hand, gasping in desperate breaths, the map table light bright in his eyes. Cas cries out, and Dean can’t move, and he’s rocketing towards the edge, and he can feel Cas’ knot pushing in and out on every thrust… Dean comes, the sensation starting low in his core and fizzing outwards as Cas continues to pump in and out, his breathing laboured as he makes desperate sounds. Dean rides his orgasm until it starts to turn to more sensitive than sweet, then starts to actually hurt. “Cas! Fucking… come, baby! Fill me up, come on!”

Cas throws back his head and thrusts in with a broken cry, and Dean cries out himself as Cas’ knot catches inside his aching body, sending a new wave of pleasure radiating outwards. Cas slumps over his back, the dead weight making Dean’s knees buckle slightly. He struggles to hold him up with the table edge cutting into his hips. He rests his head on the lit-up expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, and tries to calm his racing heart.

He’s never spent a rut with an alpha male before, but he’s aware that a knot can take a while to go down enough for them to separate. But now what is he supposed to do? He has a rabid angel attached to him, and he has no idea whether fucking had actually helped him or not. 

Castiel groans, shifting slightly. 

Dean lifts his head. “Cas?” 

Cas thrusts forward again, making Dean cry out. A fresh release burns as Cas holds himself deep inside, until at last he backs off as far as his knot will allow him, slumping back down on Dean’s back with a pained grunt.

Dean breaths through his confusion. Is this normal for ruts, just to keep orgasming all day? Not that he would be opposed to spending all day in bed with Cas under different circumstances, but this is getting seriously uncomfortable, and Cas appears to have passed out on him. 

A clunk above their heads makes Dean’s whole body tense up. Ohhhh no. Fuck no. Not now. 

The door above opens, and a voice calls out, “Dean?”

Fucking Sam. Why does he have to be so god-damn efficient? He’s gonna have to come up with something quickly to stop him from coming down here.

“Uh, hi, Sam. You might like to stay up there... for a while. Like, go away again and come back later…” Fuck, that was lame.

“What’re you talking about? I’ve got Rowena here, I can’t just—” Sam’s voice cut out as he closed the door with a clang. He must have come over to the railing and looked down. Dean hears a delicate gasp—he assumes it must be Rowena.

Dean winced. “I can explain.” From where he was lying under Cas, he couldn’t look up to see Sam or Rowena, but his imagination wasn’t doing any favours.

Sam speaks carefully. “Dean, are you… is Cas…?” Dean hears him take a breath. 

Rowena giggles, definitely giggles. 

“Look, just shut up and do something about the curse, will you? I’m losing the feeling in my legs, for fuck’s sake.”

Sam commands, “Rowena, do your thing. Now.”

Dean can hear the obvious glee in Rowena’s voice. “Och, are you sure? They look like they’re having such a lovely time! I wondered how the spell would affect the angel, but it seems to have brought out his alpha rather deliciously—”

Dean hears the click of the safety coming off Sam’s gun. “Now.”

“Very well. _Desiste_.”

Cas wakes up with a start, jerking his body so his knot pulls against Dean’s rim painfully. Dean curses, but Cas moves into him again, the sweet burn of it sending shockwaves through Dean again. _Not now, christ!_

Sam growls, “Do I need to remind you these are witch-killing bullets? Finish it!” “Yes, yes, all right. _Adlevo onus tuum!_ ”

Cas shudders, starts convulsing. He falls off Dean, dragging them both down to the floor as he shudders, still buried inside Dean. Dean grits his teeth and holds on through the pain and pleasure of it, wishing Cas was in front of him rather than behind. 

Cas stills, and Dean tries to crane his neck around to see over his shoulder from where they’re lying on the cold tile. “Cas? Cas! You there, sweetheart?” Cas’ head is resting on the floor, but as Dean watches over his shoulder, Cas blinks his eyes open. Dean breathes a sigh of relief as he sees Cas’ gaze is clear and lucid again. He reaches his arm back to try to reassure him. 

He hears Sam mutter from the top of the stairs, “Jesus christ, I am never going to be able to unsee this.”

“ _Permitte telum_.” Something metallic clatters to the floor. “ _Abi!_ ” 

There’s a crash as Sam tumbles down the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom.

Dean shouts, “No!”

“Sorry boys, I’m sure you had every intention of honoring our deal, but why take chances?” Rowena opens and closes the bunker door with a crash.

Sam groans and sits up, gingerly holding his head. “What did she...?”

“She’s gone, Sam.” 

As Dean watches Sam through the legs of the table, he rubs at his eyes and then touches his head, gingerly. He straightens out one leg with a wince. “Fucking witches.” 

A small voice comes from behind Dean. “Dean?” 

He twists back around to try to look at Cas again. “Hey, you okay there?”

Cas looks awful, his face pale and clammy, but at least the growl is gone from his voice. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. 

Sam gets to his feet and comes over, trying to avert his eyes. “On the map table? Really, Dean?” 

“Hey, I didn’t have a lot of choice, okay? He just came at me!” Dean frowned as he realised how that sounded. “I mean, I didn’t exactly try to stop him, so it wasn’t his fault, okay?”

Sam clears his throat. “Look, whatever, I really don’t want to know. I could smell the rut from up there—you guys reek. But we can work through it when you separate.” He was still studiously looking at the top of the map table, then around the room, anywhere rather than at Dean or Cas.

Dean’s face burns. Sam’s an alpha—he knows more about this than Dean ever will. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Who knows? Sometimes just a few minutes, sometimes hours. I’ll get you guys some blankets but then I’m going to find some brain bleach downstairs until you’re done. Jesus.” Sam wanders off and Dean sighs, trying to get his hip comfortable on the hard floor.

Once Sam brings back a blanket and a couple of pillows, Cas and Dean try to get as comfortable as they can. Dean carefully tucks the pillow under his head and tries to ignore the puddle of his own come on the floor a couple of feet in front of his face. 

Cas sighs heavily against the back of Dean’s neck.

“How’re you feeling now, Cas?” Dean says gently. He wishes he could look at him, touch him properly. The need to hold Cas, to care for him, is a physical ache in Dean’s body.

Cas says, quietly, “Dean, there aren’t words.”

“You’re right. There aren’t words, ‘cause there’s no need. You were under a spell.”

“But I gave in to base desires. I’ve never felt such physical lust before. It was unsettling.”

Dean reaches back until he finds Cas’ hand, then pulls it under his arm until he can hug it to his chest. “Cas, it’s fine. I wanted to help you through it. And it was some pretty mind-blowing sex, by the way!” 

They’re both quiet. Dean sighs. “How much longer is this going to take? It’s been like, four hours.”

Cas snorts. “It’s been barely one hour.”

“I’m starving. And I kinda want to kiss you.”

Cas is silent for a few moments. “This is not how I would have wanted it to happen.”

Dean turns his head, trying to see Cas out of the corner of his eye. “Oh? You wanted this to happen, then?” He smirks.

“Yes, Dean, I did. I’ve wanted it for a long time. But all I could do when your scent drove me crazy was to leave before I did something I’d regret.”

Dean’s heart aches. All those times that Cas had left, leaving him feeling empty… was because of him? “I’m sorry, Cas. You should have told me. I kinda wanted the same thing.” He pauses, but his curiosity gets the better of him. “What would you have done if you’d stayed?”

Cas sighs again. “It would have been gentle, at first. Then… not so gentle.”

Dean cock is perking up and taking an interest again. He glances around to make sure Sam has definitely gone, then moves a hand to stroke along his length. “Yes, go on?”

Cas chuckles. “And then… I would have taken you, just like this.” He rests his teeth on Dean’s shoulder, just at the base of his neck, grazing the skin gently. 

A full-body shiver goes through Dean. “Fuck me again, angel,” he murmurs, then winces as Cas shoves his hips forward into him again.

They're gonna be here on the floor all day.


End file.
